University of Virginia Library

10. CHAPTER X.

“YES, Hester, the danger is past; and, if the weather
continues favorable, my sister will soon be able to
sit up. My gratitude prompts me to erect an altar
here, where the mercy of God stayed the Destroying Angel,
as in ancient days David consecrated the threshing-floor of
Araunah.”

“Dr. Grey, if you can possibly spare, me I should like to go
back to town to-day, as Dr. Sheldon has sent for me to take
charge of a patient at his Infirmary.”

“You ought not to desert me while I am so comparatively
helpless; and I should be glad to have you remain, at least until
I recover the use of my hands.”

“Miss Salome can take my place, and do all that is really
necessary.”

“The child is so inexperienced I am almost afraid to trust
her; still —”

“Don't speak so loud. She is standing behind the window-curtain.”

“Indeed! I thought she left the room when I entered it.
Of course, Hester, I will not detain you if it is necessary that
you should be at the Infirmary; but I give you up very
reluctantly. Salome, if you are at leisure, please come and see
how Hester dresses my hand and arm, for I must rely upon
your kind services when she leaves us. Notice the manner in
which she winds the bandages. There, Hester, — not quite so
tight.”

“Dr. Grey, I never had an education, and am at best an
ignorant, poor soul; therefore, not knowing what to think about
many curious things that happen in sick-rooms, I should be
glad to hear what you have to say concerning that vision of your
sister. Remember, she saw it at the very minute that the
accident happened. I don't believe in spirit-rapping, and such
stuff as dancing tables, and spinning chairs, and pianos that

play tunes when no human being is near them; but I have
heard and seen things that made the hair rise and stand on my
head.”

“The circumstance that occurred three days since is certainly
rather singular and remarkable, but by no means inexplicable.
My sister knew that I was then travelling by railroad, — that I
would, without some unusual delay, reach the dépot at a
certain hour, and, being in a delirious condition, her mind
reverted to the probability of some occurrence that might detain
me. Having always evinced a peculiar aversion to railroads,
which she deems the most unsafe method of travelling, she had
a feverish dream that took its coloring from her excited apprehension
of danger to me; and this vision, born of delirium, was
so vivid that she could not distinguish phantom from reality.
In ninety-nine cases out of every hundred similar ones, the
dream passes without fulfilment, and is rarely recollected or
mentioned; but the hundredth — which may chance by some
surprising coincidence to seem verified — is noised abroad as
supernatural, and carefully preserved among `well-authenticated
spiritual manifestations.' If I had escaped injury, the freaks
of my sister's delirium would have made no more impression on
your mind than the ravings of a lunatic; and, since I was so
unfortunate as to be bruised and burned, you must not allow
yourself to grow superstitious, and attach undue importance to a
circumstance which was entirely accidental, and only startling
because so exceedingly rare. Presentiments, especially when
occurring in cases of fever, are merely Will-o-the-wisps floating
about in excited, diseased brains. While at sea, and constantly
associated with sailors, whose minds constitute the most favorable
and fruitful soil for the production of phantasmagoria and
diablerie, I had frequent opportunities of testing the fallacy and
absurdity of so-called `presentiments and forebodings.' I am
afraid it is the absence of spirituality in the hearts of the people,
that drives this generation to seek supernaturalism in the realm
of merely normal physics. The only true spiritualism is that
which emanates from the Holy Ghost, — conquers sinful impulses,
and makes a Christian heart the temple of God.”

Here Miss Jane called Hester into the adjoining room; and,
turning to Salome, Dr. Grey added, —

“Notwithstanding the vaunted destruction of the ancient
Hydra of superstition by the darts and javelins of modern
rationalism, and the ponderous hot irons of empirics, it is
undeniably true that the habit of `seeking after a sign' survived
the generation of Scribes and Pharisees whom Christ rebuked;
and manifests itself in the middle of the nineteenth century by
the voracity with which merely material phenomena are seized
as unmistakable indications of preternatural agencies. The
innate leaven of superstition triumphs over common sense and
scientific realism, and men and women are awed by coincidences
that reason scouts, but credulity receives with open arms.
Salome, I regret exceedingly that I am forced to trouble you,
but there are some important letters which I wish to mail
to-day, and you will greatly oblige me by acting as amanuensis
while I dictate. My present disabled condition must apologize
for the heavy tax which I am imposing upon your patience and
industry. Will you come to the library?”

She made no protestations of willingness to serve him, and
confessed no delight at the prospect of being useful, but merely
bowed and smiled, with an expression in her eyes that puzzled
him.

Seated at the library-table, and writing down the sentences
that he dictated while pacing the floor, Salome passed one of
the happiest hours of her life; for it brought the blessed assurance
that, for the present at least, he acknowledged his need of her.

One of the letters was addressed to Mr. Gerard Granville, an
attaché of the American legation at Paris, and referred principally
to financial affairs; and the other, directed to Muriel
Manton, contained an urgent request that she and her governess
would leave New York as speedily as possible and become
inmates of his sister's house.

When she had folded the letters and sealed them with his
favorite emerald signet, — bearing the words, “Frangas non
Flectes,” — Salome looked up, and asked, —

“How old is your ward, Miss Manton?”

“About your age, — though she looks much more childish.”

“Pretty, of course?”

“Why `of course'?”

“Simply because in novels they are always painted as pretty
as Persephone; and the only wards I ever knew happen to be
fictitious characters.”

“Novels are by no means infallible mirrors of nature, and
few wards are as attractive as my black-eyed pet. Muriel will
be very handsome, I hope, when she is grown; but now she
impresses me as merely sweet, piquant, and pretty.”

“Did you know her prior to your recent visit?”

“Yes; her father's house was my home whenever I chanced
to be in New York, and I have seen her, occasionally, since she
was a little girl. For your sake, as well as mine, I am glad she
will reside here, because I hope she will prove in every respect
a pleasant companion for you.”

“Thank you; but, unfortunately, that is one luxury of which
I never felt the need, and with which, permit me to tell you, I
can readily dispense. I have little respect for women, and no
desire to be wearied with their inane garrulity.”

She leaned back in her chair, and tapped restlessly with the
end of the pen-staff on the morocco-covered table.

Dr. Grey looked down steadily and gravely into her provokingly
defiant face, and replied very coldly, —

“Were I in your place, I think I should jealously guard my
lips from the hasty utterance of sentiments that, if unfeigned,
ought to bring a blush to every true woman's cheek; for I fear
that she who has no respect for her own sex bids fair to disgrace
it.”

A scarlet wave rolled up from throat to temples, and the
lurking yellow gleamed in her eyes, but the bend of her nostril
and curve of her lips did not relax.

“Which is preferable, hypocrisy or irreverence?”

“Both are unpardonable, in a woman.”

“Where is your vast charity, Dr. Grey?”

“Busy in sheltering that lofty ideal of genuine female perfection
which you seem so pertinaciously ambitious to sully and
degrade.”

“You are harsh, and scarcely courteous.”

“You will never find me less so when you vauntingly exhibit
such mournful blemishes of character.”

“At least, sir, I am honest, and show myself just what God
saw fit to allow misfortune to make me.”

“Hush, Salome! Do not add impiousness to the long catalogue
of your sinful follies. I hoped that there was a favorable
change in you before I left home, but I very much fear that,
instead of exorcising the one evil spirit that possessed you, you
have swept, and garnished, and settled yourself comfortably with
seven new ones.”

“And, like R. Chaim Vital, you come to pronounce Nidui!
and banish my diabolical guests. If cauterization cures moral
ulcers as effectually as those that afflict the flesh, then, verily,
you intend I shall be clean and whole. You are losing patience
with your graceless neophyte.”

“Yes, Salome; because forced to lose faith in her inclination
and capacity to sublimate her erring nature. Once for all, let
me say that habitual depreciation of your own sex will not
elevate you in the estimation of mine; for, however fallen you
may find mankind, they nevertheless realize amid their degradation
that, —

There was no taunt, no bitterness, in his voice; but grievous
disappointment, too deep for utterance; and the girl winced
under it, though only the flush burning on cheek and brow
attested her vulnerability.

“Remember, sir, that humanity was not moulded entirely
from one stratum of pipe-clay. Only a few wear paint, enamelling,
and gold as delicate costly Sevres; and, while the majority
are only coarse pottery, it is scarcely kind — certainly not
generous — in dainty, transparent china, belonging to king's

palaces, to pity or denounce the humble Delft or Wedgewoodware
doing duty in laborer's cottages.”

“Very true, my poor little warped, blotched bit of perverse
pottery; but of one vital truth permit me to assure you: the
purity and elevation of our race depend upon preserving inviolate
in the hearts of men a belief that women's natures are crystalline
as that celebrated glass once made at Murano, which was so
exceedingly fine and delicate that it burst into fragments if
poison was poured into it.”

“Then, obviously, I am no Venetian goblet; else long ago I
should have shattered under the bitter, black juices poured by
fate. It seems I am not worthy to touch the lips of doges and
grand dukes; but let them look to it that some day, when spent
and thirsty, they stretch not their regal hands for the common
clay that holds what all their costly, dainty fragments can never
yield. Nous verrons! `The stone which the builders rejected
has become the head of the corner.'”

Dr. Grey had resumed his walk, but the half-suppressed,
passionate protest, whose underswell began to agitate her voice,
arrested his attention, and he came to the table and stood close
to the orphan.

“What is the matter with my headstrong young friend?”

She made no answer; but her elfish eyes sought his, and
braved their quiet rebuke.

“This is the last opportunity I shall offer you to tell me
frankly what troubles you. Can I help you in any way? If so,
command me.”

“Once you could have helped me, but that time has passed.”

“Perhaps not. Try me.”

“It is too late. You have lost faith in me.”

“No; you have lost all faith in yourself, if you ever indulged
any, — which I very much doubt. It is you who are faithless
concerning your own defective character.”

“Not I, indeed! I know it rather too well, either to set it
aloft for adoration or to trample it in the mire. When your
faith in me expired, mine was born. Do you recollect that
beautiful painted window in Lincoln Cathedral which the untutored

fingers of an apprentice fashioned out of the despised bits
of glass rejected by the fastidious master-builder? It is so
vastly superior to every other in the church that the vanquished
artist could not survive the chagrin and mortification, and killed
himself. My faith is very strong, that, please God, I shall some
day show you similar handiwork.”

“You grow enigmatical, and I do not fully understand you.”

“No; you do not in the least comprehend me. The girl whom
you left six months ago has changed in many respects.”

“For better, or for worse?”

“Perhaps neither one nor yet the other; but, at least, sir,
`my future will not copy fair my past.'”

“Since my return, I have noticed an alteration in your deportment,
which, I regret to say, I cannot consider an improvement;
and I should feel inclined to attribute your restless impatience
to nervous disease were I not assured by your appearance that
you are in perfect health. Remember, that quietude of manner
constitutes a woman's greatest charm; and, unfortunately, you
seem almost a mimic mælstrom. But, pardon me, I did not intend
to lecture you; and, hoping all things, I will patiently wait for
the future that you seem to have dedicated to some special object.
I will try to have faith in my perverse little friend, though she
sometimes renders it a difficult task. May I trouble you to
stamp those letters?”

He could not analyze the change that passed swiftly across her
face, nor the emotion that made her suddenly clinch her hands
till the rosy nails grew purple.

“Dr. Grey, don't you believe that if Judas Iscariot had only
resisted the temptation of the thirty pieces of silver, and stood
by his master instead of betraying him, that his position in
heaven would have been far more exalted than that of Peter, or
even of John?”

“That is a question which I have never pondered, and am not
prepared to discuss. Why do you propound it?”

She did not answer immediately; and, when she spoke, her
glittering eyes softened in their expression, and resembled stars
rising through the golden mist of lingering sunset splendor.

“God gave you a nobler heart than mine, and left it an easy,
pleasant matter for you to be good; while, struggle as I may, I
am constantly in danger of tumbling into some slough of iniquity,
or setting up false gods for my soul to bow down to. Because
it is so much more difficult for me to do right than for you, it is
only just that my reward should be correspondingly greater.”

“I am neither John nor Peter, nor are you Judas; and only
He who knows our mutual faults and follies, our triumphs and
defeats in the life-long campaign with sin, can judge us equitably.
I am too painfully conscious of my own imperfections not to
sympathize earnestly with the temptations that may assail you;
and, moreover, we should never lose sight of the fact, —

“Dr. Grey, you have great confidence in the efficacy of
prayer?”

“Yes; for without it human lives are rudderless, drifting to
speedy wreck and ruin.”

“If I ask a favor, will you grant it?”

“Have I ever denied you anything that you asked?”

“Yes, sir, — your good opinion.”

“I knew that had you really desired that, you would long
since have rendered it impossible for me to withhold it. But to
the point, — what is your petition?”

“I want you to pray for me.”

“Salome, are you serious? Are you really in earnest?”

“Mournfully in earnest.”

“Then rest satisfied that henceforth you will always have a
place in my prayers; but do not forget the greater necessity of
praying for yourself. Now, tell me how you have been employed
during my long absence. Where are the accumulated exercises
which I promised to examine and correct when I returned?”

“Promised whom?”

“You.”

“You forget that I did not see you the day you left, and that
you did not even bid me good-by.”

“I referred to your French exercises in a brief and hurried
note that I left for you.”

“Left where? I never received — never heard of it.”

“I laid it upon your plate, where I supposed you would certainly
notice it when you came home to dinner.”

“Why did not you give it to Miss Jane?”

“Simply because she was not in the room when I wrote it.
It is rather surprising that it escaped your observation, as I laid
it in a conspicuous place.”

She did not deem it necessary to inform him that on that
unlucky day she had suddenly lost her appetite, and failed to go
to the table; and now she put her fingers over her eyes to conceal
the blaze of joyful light that irradiated them, as he mentioned the
circumstance, comparatively trivial, but precious in her estimation,
since it was freighted with the assurance that at least he
had thought of her on the eve of his unexpected departure.
What inexpressible comfort that note might have contributed
during all those tedious months of silence and separation!
While she sat there thinking of the dreary afternoon when, down
in the orchard-grass she lay upon her face, Dr. Grey came
nearer to her, and said, —

“I hope you have not abandoned your French?”

“No, sir; but I devote less time than formerly to it.”

“If agreeable to you, we will resume the exercises as soon as
I can wield my pen.”

“If you can teach me Italian, I should prefer it; especially
since I have learned to pronounce French tolerably well?”

“What use do you expect to have for Italian, — at least, at
present? French is much more essential.”

“I have a good reason for desiring to make the change, though
just now I do not choose to be driven into any explanations.”

“Pardon me. I had no intention of forcing your confidence.
When in Italy, I always contrived to understand and make myself
understood; but my knowledge and use of the language is rather
too slip-shod to justify my attempting to teach you idioms, hallowed
as the medium through which Dante and Ariosto charmed
the world. Miss Dexter, Muriel's governess, is a very thorough

and accomplished linguist, and speaks Italian not only gracefully
but correctly. I have already engaged her to teach you whatever
she may deem advisable when she comes here to live.”

“You are very kind. Is she a young person?”

“She is a very highly cultivated and elegant woman, probably
twenty-five or six years old, and has been in Florence with
Muriel.”

Involuntarily and unconsciously the orphan sighed, and the
muscles in her broad forehead tangled terribly.

“Salome, please put your hand in the right pocket of my vest,
and take out a key that ought to be there. No, — not that; a
larger steel one. Now you have it. Will you be so good as to
open that trunk which came by express yesterday (it is in the
upper hall), and bring me a box wrapped in pink tissue-paper?
I would not trouble you with so many commissions if I could use
my hands.”

Unable longer to repress her feelings, the girl exclaimed
eagerly, —

“If you could imagine what pleasure it affords me to render
you the slightest service, I am very sure you would not annoy
me with apologies for making me happy.”

In a few moments she returned to the library, bearing in her
hand a small but heavy package, which she placed on the table
before him.

“Please open it, and examine the contents.”

She obeyed him; and, after removing the wrapping, found a
blue velvet case that opened with a spring and revealed a parcel
enclosed in silver paper. Dr. Grey turned and walked to the
window; and, as Salome took off the last covering, a watch and
chain met her curious gaze. One side of the former was richly and
elaborately chased, and represented Kronos leaning on his scythe;
the other was studded with diamonds that flashed out the name
“Salome.” Astonishment and delight sealed the orphan's lips,
and, in silence, far more eloquent than words, she bowed her head
upon the table. After a few moments had elapsed, Dr. Grey
attempted to steal out of the room; but, being obliged to pass
close by her chair, she put out her hand and arrested his movement.

“It is the most beautiful watch I have ever seen; but, oh, sir!
how shall I sufficiently thank you? How can I express all that
is throbbing here in my proud, grateful heart? Although the
costly gift is elegant and tasteful, I hold still more precious the
fact which it attests, — that during your absence you thought of
me. How shall I begin to prove my gratitude for your kindness
and generosity?”

“Do not thank me, my little friend; for, indeed I require no
verbal assurances that my souvenir is kindly received and appreciated.
Wear the watch; and let it continually remind you not
only of the sincerity of my friendship, but of the far more
important fact that every idle or injudiciously employed hour
will cry out in accusation against us in the final assize, when we
are called upon to render an account of the distribution of that
invaluable time which God allows us solely for the accomplishment
of His work on earth. It is so exceedingly difficult for
young persons to realize how marvellously rapid is the flight of
time, that you will, I trust, forgive me if I endeavor to impress
upon you the vital importance of making each day fragrant with
the burden of some good deed, the resistance of some sore temptation,
some service rendered to God or to suffering humanity
which shall make your years mellow with the fruitage that will
entitle you to a glorious record in the golden book of Abou Ben
Adhem's angel. Let this little jewelled monitress of the fleeting,
mocking nature of time, this ingenious toy, whose ticking is but
the mournful, endless knell of dead seconds, remind you that, —

As Salome looked up into his tranquil, happy face, two tears
glided across her cheeks, and fell upon the pretty bauble.

“You will find a key in the case, and can wind it up, and set
it by the clock in the parlor.”

“Dr. Grey, are you willing that my watch shall bear daily
testimony of something which I hold far above its diamonds, —
that you have faith in Salome Owen?”

“Perfectly willing that you should make it eloquent with all
friendly utterances and sympathy. Hester has bound my arm
so tightly that it impedes the circulation, and is very painful.
Please loosen the bandage.”

She complied as carefully as possible, though her hands
trembled; and, when the ligature had been comfortably adjusted
and the arm restored to its sling, she stooped and pressed her
lips softly and reverently to the cold, white fingers, that protruded
from the linen bands. He endeavored ineffectually to prevent
the caress, which evidently embarrassed him; but she left two
kisses on the bruised hand, and, snatching her watch and chain
from the table, hastily quitted the room.

In after years, when loneliness and disappointment pressed
heavily upon her heart, she looked back to the three weeks that
succeeded Dr. Grey's return as the halcyon days, as the cloudless
June morning of her life; and, in blissful retrospection,
temporarily found Elysium.

She wrote his letters, read aloud from his favorite books,
dressed and bandaged his blistered hand and fractured arm, and
surrendered her heart to an intense and perfect happiness such
as she had scarcely dared to hope would ever be her portion.